The Time of the She Wolf
by Azina Zelle
Summary: Guy of Gisburne is captured by the Sons of Fenris and Anne of Halam, a she wolf, has no idea how her life will be changed when she's ordered to tend to the Norman prisoner.
1. The Captive

The rough wolf fur pelt bristled against my shoulders as I stirred the pot of steaming stew, fresh beans and carrots bobbing to the surface of the thickening gravy. I had not had such delicious, "civilized" food in ages and I relished the thought of digging into a hot, savory meal. Although I had not been living with the Wolf Warriors, servants of Fenris, for more than three months, it felt like a lifetime ago when I lived in the small village of Halam.

There my family lived – my mother and aging father upon a farm which we tended with the rhythmic change of the seasons. We had owned that farm for generations, until foreign conquerors came, bearing strange armor and claiming our ancestral lands now belonged to them. When the few young able-bodied men fought them, they were swiftly and mercilessly killed, and from thence half to two-thirds our grain and some of our livestock went to our greedy and cruel Norman masters.

We thought the Normans were coming to collect their taxes and humiliate us again when we saw men riding over the hill on horses. But as they grew closer, we realized these were not the Normans. They bore animals skins and fierce, horrific cries escaped their throats as they rode through the village, setting fire to our homes and killing all who resisted them.

Many of the women and children were set to the sword as well, but I was one of the few who survived, but not by blind, helpless submission. In my moment of fear and rage, as a Wolf Warrior charged into our home, slaughtering my family before me, I swept up a scythe and in a brutal blow slashed through the neck of my family's murderer. I knew soon his friends would come, but now I was determined I wouldn't die helpless, screaming for mercy like I heard and saw so many women and children do before they were put to the sword. My life would cost whoever walked through that door dearly.

A Wolf Warrior did come, blood-lust and revenge burning in his eyes as he saw me. This time I would not have the element of surprise on my side, but I held the scythe's worn wooden handle within my hands and was prepared to at least slash off an arm before he killed me. As he charged, a fierce cry erupting from his lips and his sword raised, a soft, sly voice wormed its way into the room:

"Stop! Fenris wants this one."

The warrior, startled, whirled around to see a strange looking man, completely bald, his sharp cheekbones making him gaunt; a sly maliciousness dwelt in his eyes. The warrior seemed hesitant for a moment to obey the order, but then he swiftly saluted and cried:

"Hail, Fenris!"

As the Wolf Warrior left, the strange man entered my home, now the scene of such carnage. I felt even more in danger from this man than the warrior bent on my death. I held the scythe in my hands even tighter and raised it as he drew close.

"If you come closer I'll kill you," I spat, rage and desperation in my voice.

I felt my clothes sticking to me, beginning to grow stiff and realized I must be covered in blood. But even at my threats, the strange man clearly within my striking distance now, he didn't seem afraid or even disturbed by me.

"Ah, yess. Fenris will want such a she-wolf in his service."

"I won't serve this 'Fenris'! I will kill you first," I cried.

"It is your choice," he said slyly. "But know the Sons of Fenris are prepared to burn this hovel to the ground and you with it."

My arms trembled slightly, part from the weight and part from fear. He drew closer, only a few feet away and clearly within that range I could strike a fatal blow if I chose to take it.

"Join us – join us or die," he said, a malicious gleam shining from his eyes.

For a moment two different scenarios of my future flashed through my mind … In one I would join these barbarians and live God knows what terrible life. On the other I would kill this sinister man standing before me and the house I had been born in and grew up in would erupt in flame. I would die in slow, horrifying agony within the fire. Whether it was the weight of the scythe or my fear, I lowered my only weapon and he took this as my consent.

Without a word, he just turned from me and left the house. I expected at any moment the fire would come, but instead two Wolf Warriors barged through the door, roughly grabbed me and dragged me from the house. I was shoved on top a horse with a Wolf Warrior firmly grasping me about the waist. We stayed there until all that was left of my village was gone … and lastly my house and my dead family were put to the flame. The rest of my memory blurred into grief and hatred as we rode away.

Life since that time was brutal and cruel. I was "initiated" by the man I now knew as Gulnar, high priest of the savage wolf god Fenris. As he scraped my skin with a small metal claw and the blood rose to the surface, I felt rage burn within me. I wanted to tear everyone apart and scream out the anger searing within me. I wondered if this was the will of the cruel wolf god or the result of my own hatred.

For the first few weeks I embraced the hatred and savagery dwelling with my heart, but then I saw the other she-wolves that had been initiated before me. They had become like feral animals, hair unkempt, their rough, wild wolf pelts barely covering them. They indulged in their basest desires and rarely ever spoke. Fear arose within me … Is this what I would become as a she-wolf? From then on I lived a double life, savage and fierce on the outside, but still trying to hold on to the shreds of humanity that seemed to so easily slip from me in the barbarity of the Wolf.

I was horrified when they slaughtered the monks at Grimston Abbey, but outwardly gave no sign to my feelings. I stayed on the periphery of the slaughter, pretending to end more lives with my knife, but secretly allowing a few monks to escape into the dense undergrowth of the forest.

Once in the abbey, I almost felt some semblance at being back in civilization. I stayed mostly in the kitchen, for the Wolf Warriors still insisted on the she-wolves cooking, and I was content to be away from them as much as possible. Very few of the warriors came to bother me – especially after the impetuous and lusty young Wolf Warrior, Tyrok, came to show me "what love really was like." He was rewarded with a firm knock to his skull with a small cauldron – much to the amusement of the other Wolf Warriors and praise from Gulnar that I was a "feisty she-wolf."

So I was left alone in the kitchen, only leaving it to tend the monks' garden or return to my cold, small cell within the abbey. I figured my life would remain quiet for a little while, captured in my monotonous daily routine until I heard a man's voice echoing down the corridor. I realized it must be coming from the main sanctuary – or what used to be the sanctuary. From what little I could hear, the man was screaming insults and protests, clearly enraged at the Wolf Warriors.

I inwardly felt regret – soon they would either have another victim to Fenris or a new warrior to join them. I tried to forget about the mysterious man until Skeshol, an older Wolf Warrior more involved in assisting Gulnar than slaughtering villagers, told me that the prisoner was in need of food and to bring it to him.

I might have been offended playing the servant, but truth be told I was curious about this new prisoner who showed such fire even to the Wolf Warriors. I took a wooden tray – one of the plainer ones from the monks' stash of kitchenware. I was prepared to place just the customary prison fare – a half loaf of coarse-ground wheat bread and a cup of water. But somehow as I was ready just to put this simple meal on the tray, I changed my mind, although I wasn't sure why at the time.

When I left the kitchen, the stew still was simmering in its pot. I carried the tray through the empty corridor, down the narrow stairway to a heavy, locked door. I fumbled with the few keys I was given in the abbey and swiftly unlocked it. The light was poor as I walked down the last set of stairs to what the Wolf Warriors had turned into a prison. Crude cages stood at the entrance and further back were wooden boards bolted to the walls that held shackles. I cursed the darkness of the chamber, for the torches burned low. I took an extinguished candle and lit it. As the pool of golden light followed me from the candle in my hand, I continued tentatively and kicked a stone that was on the cell floor. The stone rattled away into the darkness and a booming voice broke the unearthly silence.

"Who are you? Animals! Coming to torture me are you?! Well you'll get nothing from me. NOTHING!!"

I stopped, partly startled from the commanding, angry voice, then said – with a truth that shocked even me at the time:

"I am not one of them."


	2. Prisoners

A silence settled heavy and thick within the chamber, and I ventured a bit closer, the candlelight flooding the darkness in a faint halo before me. Gold hair gleamed faintly as the candlelight first touched the prisoner's face. I was amazed to see such a beautiful man standing before me in the darkness. His hair was the color of rich autumn wheat and his eyes were reminiscent of a clear, spring sky. His bearing was much more of a young lord than a prisoner awaiting torture and death.

"If you've come to rescue me then unchain me, woman," he barked, anger flashing in his eyes.

My teeth set at the insult and I looked more closely at his rich blue robes.

_You must be a Norman, one of the foul tyrants that destroyed my life!_

Hatred arose within me and I felt compelled to strike the arrogance out of him, but I didn't raise my hand. I saw his jaw set, the muscles tensing in his cheeks in rage I was not following his command.

"Well if you're not here to free me, don't waste my time," the young man shouted.

I was ready to leave him to his misery and fate, but instead I looked him in the eye and said:

"If you must know I am here to deliver your meal. You should starve for all I care now!"

I was tempted to grab some of the food and throw it full into his face, but his eyes turned down at the tray I held and an amused bitterness crossed his face.

"How like those animals … to bring me food and mock me … And how will I be able to eat it, my dear?"

His wrists strained against the chains that bound his wrists in shackles. He then turned his eyes away and gazed at the cold stone wall.

"Leave and take your food with you," he said, so softly I almost didn't hear.

"Then you will starve? This is foolishness," I said.

I ripped off a piece of bread and held it out to his lips. His eyes snapped to me at my sudden and unexpected gesture. Confusion and surprise briefly passed over his face, before his features hardened again.

"I will not take food from your hand like a helpless beggar!"

"Then you will grow weak and they _will_ kill you," I cried.

Again I felt like throwing the food in his face and leaving. At first his jaw clenched in anger, but then his eyes turned down, lost in his thoughts and I saw something I hadn't seen before – sadness, fear?

"Very well then," he sighed in resignation, as if he was about to suffer the ultimate in humiliation.

Reluctantly I held out the piece of bread to his lips as I still was angry at this arrogant and hot-blooded Norman. He snapped off a piece of bread with his teeth. I was thankful my fingers were nowhere near the fierce bite. All the time he avoided making eye contact with me, keep his eyes toward the wall or the floor, as if too ashamed and angry to meet my gaze. After awhile the bread was gone and I turned toward the wooden cup that was on the tray and held it to his lips. He took a look at the cup and an ironic, bitter grin passed over his lips.

"The best wine in this abbey, I suppose," he said.

I shoved the cup toward his lips and he drank the water, in spite of his sarcastic remark. Some water dripped from the cup and trickled down his neck. I was surprised to find myself gazing at the drops as they ran down his graceful neck. I heard a grunt and took the cup away. He coughed and said:

"What are you trying to do, drown me?"

"Maybe I should if it would keep you quiet," I spat.

Again anger flashed in his eyes, but just as quickly died. He remained silent and although I was glad at his sudden quiet, it made me wonder why someone who obviously looked like a Norman lord would take such a comment from a low-ranking woman dressed in nothing better than wolf skins.

I took up a bowl of stew, which I brought on impulse from the kitchen when I was told to feed the prisoner. It was fare much better than many prisoners of Fenris ever received, but somehow I felt compelled to bring the delicious meal along with me. I held the bowl steady in the crook of my left arm while taking a spoonful of the savory broth. I held it out to him and waited for him to take the spoon into his mouth.

His expression changed as he saw the delicious food before him and I saw something different in his eyes – confusion. He took the spoon into his mouth and tasted it, surprise briefly flashing in his eyes. He licked away the trickle of gravy that remained on his lips and again I felt mesmerized – this time by his shapely, gleaming lips.

"Do you have any more," he asked – and found myself savoring the rich, dark voice he had – unusual I thought for a man so fair.

I gave him a spoonful, then another. Pretty soon the bowl was empty and scraped clean. I then turned to the one last thing I had on the tray – an apple that had been picked from the monks' nearby orchard. It had already been sliced as I knew better than to take a knife with me when seeing a prisoner, and picked up an apple slice.

"This is for dessert," I said, and held the apple close to his lips.

Surprisingly he didn't bite into the fruit, but for the first time gazed into my eyes during his meal. Again, the same strange confusion dwelt within his eyes.

"Why are you doing this," he asked.

The question struck me as an odd one and then said, "Because you need to eat. If chained, someone has to give you the food somehow."

"No, you didn't have to do this." His voice was low; almost a whisper and he seemed lost in thoughts in that moment.

I held out the apple to him and he took it into his mouth. I was thankful he didn't bite because my fingertips were near the apple when it entered his mouth and for a brief instant I felt those soft lips upon my fingers. I was surprised to feel a sudden shiver run through my body at the unintentional contact. I pulled my hand away as though embarrassed I had allowed such a touch to happen.

I handed him another slice and another. Whether he was doing it intentionally or I consistently kept bringing my hands too close, more often than not my fingers passed over his lips and one time I even thought he softly sucked the apple juice from my fingertips. In that moment, a wave of warmth and pleasure swept through me unbidden and I hoped desperately in the candlelight he didn't see me blush.

When I looked at the tray, I almost was disappointed to see there was nothing left to feed him and I had no more excuse to linger there. I looked back at the young man before me and said with some regret:

"I best get back."

"Do what you must," he said.

He continued to follow me with his eyes as I moved toward the tray. I looked at the tray, lying empty on the cold stone floor and then gazed back at him, his piercing blue eyes gleaming even in the dim light of such a God-forsaken place.

"What is your name, my lady?"

It was my turn to be shocked. Being called lady and treated as though I was a maiden in court while I was covered in wolf skins and bore no lands or title. Surely no Norman lord would act toward a poor peasant girl in such a way.

"My name … It is Anne … Anne of Halam."

"Pleased to meet you, Anne of Halam." And he nodded his head as if in place of a courtly bow.

Was he mocking me now or genuinely showing me courtesy – a courtesy I never had seen from any of the Norman monsters?

"And sir – what is your name?"

"It is Guy – Sir Guy of Gisburne, steward to – no." His eyes dimmed a bit and the brief smile that played upon his lips vanished. "No, I suppose that life is over now."

"You were a steward?"

"Yes, a steward – that is until my lord betrayed me to save his own life."

My heart sank. So the handsome young Norman standing before me was a wanted man fleeing for his life.

"What will happen when your lord catches you?"

His blue eyes seemed to harden as he turned his gaze to the cold stone floor.

"I needn't worry about that now, shall I? Death waits here, does it not? The barbarians are set to kill me, I suppose."

I shook my head in indecision, gathering up the empty bowls upon the wooden tray.

"I don't know," I said. "They might give you a choice – a horrible choice – the same one that was given to me."

Guy's eyes gleamed sharply in confusion and fear.

"And what choice is that," he asked, almost demanded in his fear and anger.

My mouth opened in response, but then I heard the door leading to the prison opening. I had stayed too long and one of the Wolf Warriors was coming.

"Goodbye, Sir Guy of Gisburne," I said, hurriedly leaving the cell and taking my candle with me.

I regretted leaving him in the cold and darkness – not knowing if I'd ever see him alive again.


	3. Nightmare

That night in my monk's cell I thought of the handsome young man who too was spending the night in loneliness – the chill stone walls surrounding him. Would he live or die? I did not know. Both our lives hung upon the goodwill of Gulnar. By tomorrow morning I might receive word that Fenris would have a new sacrifice, that the blood the fierce wolf god craved would cost Guy of Gisburne his life.

I turned over upon the stiff straw bed mattress, my mind tormenting me at the dreadful image of the sacrifice. Why did I dread the young Norman would die? Who was he to me? Maybe he was just a pretty face and his heart was as cold and hard as February ice. But still thoughts ran through my head, contradicting all I had learned – that all Normans were loathsome tyrants.

I pressed my eyes shut, nearly slamming my fists in frustration upon the unyielding straw mattress. Unbidden images appeared of Guy being there upon the bed, his lips gently touching mine as his large hands softly caressed my body, sweeping over the curve of my hips and holding me close. My breath caught in my throat as I felt an ache of desire.

No! I couldn't think this way! I could not afford to feel love, not for a doomed man! Would I add heartbreak to my anger and despair?

I shoved these thoughts out of my mind. Tonight or in the morn Guy's fate would be decided and live or die – I could not allow myself the luxury of love.

* * *

_Do you forswear all allegiances save to Fenris?_

The choking smoke obscures the candles. Terror swells within me as I am dragged forward. Pain shocks through knees as I am forced to kneel upon the ground before the fanged wolf god. I gasp, struggling to control my fear. Metal shines in the darkness. Is it a knife?

_Do you forswear … _

My throat chokes as my heart races faster. I cannot speak. I cannot move. Only paralyzing terror possesses me. A blade shines before me.

_You have been chosen._

The knife seems to hover in the air, hungry and eager for blood.

_Fenris demands a sacrifice!_

Blood stains the stones, pooling out before the idol of the wolf god.

_You have your sacrifice!_

NO!!

* * *

I gasped, sucking in the cold air from my monk's cell. Dank sweat clung to me and I trembled from the nightmare. A sacrifice? Oh, God no! Has it already happened? Is he dead already? I threw on my wolf pelts and emerged from my cell. I tried not to look flustered or fearful as this would draw suspicion from the warriors, but moved calmly to the kitchens. I gathered some bread and cheese there and made my way to the prison cells. I had to know – know if he was still there or if Fenris had taken him.

A thin stream of sunlight pierced the dust and gloom of the prison from a slit of an abbey window. My eyes strained and I cursed my stupidity for not bringing a candle with me. I moved forward, cautiously in the darkness. I was eager to hear a voice, hear anything, but there was just silence. Then I reached it, the board with shackles and saw the manacles hanging open upon their rusted chains. Guy was no longer there and I realized they must have taken him soon after I had left. A sickening dread filled me while my heart beat heavy within my chest.

The wooden tray dropped from hands and the food clattered to the floor, falling upon the stone and scattered straw. I turned and ran back up the stairs, desperate to search, to find out if Guy still lived. Not once did I wonder at why I cared so much for him. Why he mattered to me when we spent so little time together. But tears filled my eyes and fear clenched my heart, thinking he was dead and I was all alone again.

I made my way through the abbey, pretending to be about daily tasks whenever a Wolf Warrior passed me by. But all the while I searched for Guy, wondering if he had been bound to one of the stone pillars or chained to a new place for the sport of the warriors. In the end, I didn't see him and found myself looking at the floor in front of the idol of Fenris, expecting now to see blood stains upon the marble floor. But I saw no blood and didn't dare inquire into the young man's fate.

_It is better that I don't know and forget_, I thought – and returned to the kitchen, hoping to drown myself in work.


	4. New Wolf

A day and a night passed. I heard no one and saw no one, delivering the food to the warriors via one of the she-wolves who came for the meals. The silence and solitude didn't have the effect I had hoped. When I gazed through the window, the sunlight reminded me of Guy's golden hair and the sky the clear blue of his eyes.

_Gone now. All gone. Gone forever._

I didn't sleep that night and found myself rising before the sun. I made my way through the cold darkness of the abbey and found myself in the kitchen, alone, gazing listlessly at the smooth-worn knots gently warping the table boards. When I finally turned my eyes up and toward the door I saw it was now open and a Wolf Warrior stood within the stone archway. Shock and dread filled me a moment, afraid it was Tyrok who had come to get his revenge, but then upon studying his face I realized it was not him.

Was I dreaming or seeing a ghost? Fur wolf pelts hung over his tall, lean frame. I saw the familiar blue eyes and golden hair, though unkempt now and hanging tangled about his face. His lips parted in surprise, as though as shocked to see me there as I was to see him.

"Anne, I – I didn't think you'd be here."

I stood up from out of my chair and slowly approached him. I couldn't believe in some way how different his looked, dressed in wolf skins and feeling ill at ease in them as though some of his confidence had been stripped away when they took away his rich blue robes. His eyes fixed on mine in indecision and a slightly embarrassed smile crossed his lips.

"I imagine you didn't expect me either – at least not like this," he said at last.

"No … but I am glad to see you. When I brought you your breakfast you were gone. I didn't know if you were still alive."

His smile vanished.

"I didn't think I would be alive either. Even when I agreed to their 'demands,' I didn't believe them. I thought they would kill me before their heathen god."

I turned my eyes toward him, studying his face, the furrows between his brows and the sadness in his eyes.

"Maybe it would have been best that happen than to join these animals," he said softly, as though talking to himself rather than me. "Now what honor I once had is gone."

I moved toward him and gently touched his hand.

"Sometimes it is better to live," I said. "Even live a lie – than to give them your soul."

I saw him contemplating my words, as if lost in their meaning somehow. We stood there in silence those few moments and finally he turned to me.

"I should go, before they awake and find me gone," he said.

He started to draw himself away, but I kept holding his hand in mine, preventing him from leaving.

"But why did you come here," I asked. "I don't suppose it was because you were hungry."

A small smile briefly crossed his lips and for the first time I noticed the dimples on his cheeks, making him look younger and more boyish than his years.

"No. I was looking for something – something for this."

He gently touched his shoulder with his free hand. The rough wolf pelt covered the shoulder and I slipped my hand from his as I moved closer, trying to see past the coarse fur. I stopped just a few paces before him and suddenly realized how close I was to him. I was struck by how tall he really was and how poorly the fur covered his long frame. I saw his shapely, lean chest and an image crossed my mind how delightful it would be to run my fingers over that smooth skin.

I moved my hands toward the wolf pelt, trying not to show my desire, but just an intention to help. As I reached for the pelt, I suddenly felt Guy's hand touch mine, stopping my motion to remove the fur. His large hand completely covered mine and I felt the calluses upon his fingers, probably from his sword or many long hours in the saddle.

"It's just a minor wound. It is nothing," he said. "You needn't trouble yourself."

"It is no trouble," I said softly. "And I might be able to help."

His hand slowly slipped from mine and I almost felt regret his touch was gone. But as I removed part of the wolf pelt, I saw a wound that was familiar among the Sons of Fenris. Three long claw marks traced their way from his shoulder to the left pectoral. Already the skin around it was red and inflamed, and again I wondered if the claw Gulnar used had some poison on it.

"Is it hurting," I asked.

"No. More burns. Please, my lady, it is nothing. I will go now."

He began to replace the fur pelt over the wound, but I stopped him, our hands touching again.

"Wait. I have something here that might help."

I briefly looked up at his face and felt entranced a moment, his eyes gazing into mine, his lips slightly parted. I felt the heat radiating off his body and saw a light sweat gleaming upon his brow. My heart raced in my breast and I struggled to retain control.

_No, you mustn't. He might be feverish. I need to help him_.

I turned to the herbs hanging on the kitchen rack and pulled off some leaves from a dried flower that commonly grew by the river near the abbey. I placed a few leaves in a small mortar and ground them into a fine powder. I finally added oil some to thicken it into a paste.

"If you place this on the wound, it should speed healing and ease some of the irritation."

I brought the mortar bowl over to Guy. He smelled the mixture and wrinkled his nose a bit.

"It smells. What is it?"

"Comfrey," I said. "It has great healing properties."

I took some of the ointment and gently removed the pelt, trying not to gaze into his eyes or focus upon his shapely body. In quick, matter-of-fact strokes, I applied the ointment and then covered the wound back up with the fur. I wiped the ointment off my hands and placed the ointment bowl on a shelf.

I knew I had to move away from him now. I had no other excuse to linger close to him, but again I felt his warmth near me and wanted to press myself close against him. I looked up and saw him gazing at me intently, as if in his eyes his soul was open to me. His face gleamed with sweat and I struggled with one last pretense to remain near him.

"Do you also have a fever," I asked, trying to keep my voice steady and distant.

He remained silent, just looking at me and felt his gaze burning its way into my own soul. I moved my hand, stretching my arm to touch his forehead, but I could only reach his cheek because of his height. I pressed the palm of my hand to his cheek, feeling the heat burning there.

_My God, what if he's ill?_

But then I felt his large hand pressing against mine. It was such a soft, gentle touch and my eyes closed, relishing the feeling. Guy slid my hand down from his cheek and then I felt his lips delicately touch the tips of my fingers. A wave of pleasure rippled through me and I stifled a moan. His lips then moved to the palm of my hand and I felt a soft, almost gentlemanly kiss – as a lord accustomed to kissing the hand of lady.

I looked toward him and saw something kind and loving in his eyes. Had he been masking these feeling all this time, putting on a facade of fear and anger? I turned to him, sliding my hand to his graceful neck and pressed my lips to his. The kiss ran like a shock through me, setting my blood on fire. I felt him running his hands through my hair and holding my head as if it was the most precious thing while his lips moved across mine.

I ran my fingers through his lovely golden hair, realizing just a night ago I had thought him dead, lost to me forever. As our lips parted, I saw a brief look of vulnerability dwelling within his eyes. Again our lips touched, the kiss deepening from sweetness to passion. As his strong arms wrapped around me, in that moment I felt safe – even in Grimston Abbey where Gulnar reigned, I felt safe.


	5. Fury

A magnificent black stallion pawed the ground of the stable with his hoof. The horse arched his gleaming midnight neck a moment, and then turned his head toward me to sniff me. Guy was astride the beautiful horse, sitting upon his back as naturally as if he had been born to ride the proud stallion. Guy smiled, the boyish dimples briefly flitting across his cheeks.

"This here is Fury," Guy said proudly. "The best horse I've ever known. We've seen some rough times together, haven't we boy?"

He patted Fury's neck and the stallion tossed his head, as if agreeing with Guy.

"He's saved my life a few times. I wouldn't part with him – not even if that ghastly King John gave me his crown or all the wealth in the kingdom."

Guy affectionately scratched behind Fury's ears and the stallion, as if used to this gesture, raised his head to make it easier for Guy. I was not very used to horses – as they were purely the Norman invaders' property (unless a Saxon managed to steal one). I was still ill at ease around the huge black stallion that was powerful enough to charge with a knight wearing full armor. But I tentatively reached out my hand and gently stroked the one white thing on Fury, the little white spot upon his forehead. Fury snorted a moment at the foreign touch, but then decided he enjoyed being doted on by two people.

"Ah, we'll spoil him. He's a horse and not a pet," Guy laughed.

"I think he's already spoiled, Sir Guy," I said. "You best get used to the notion."

He smiled at me, looking like a happy boy astride his beloved horse.

Since Guy had joined the Sons of Fenris, I had worried about him and the affect their barbarity would have upon him. He spent countless hours in the Great Hall while the warriors enjoyed their blood sport or in the feasting hall, where the warriors ate more like savage animals than humans. They never returned his rich Norman robes to him and instead gave him a crude rib cage to wear over his chest along with the furs and the iron collar around his neck.

Sometimes I feared the savagery would whittle away at his soul, slowly strip him of his humanity – as it almost did me. But in the stable, with Fury, for a brief while he returned to his old self and probably thought of his past glories.

"So when did you get him," I asked.

"Oh, Fury? Seems like ages ago now. It was after my – my father told me something I never wished to hear."

Guy's eyes darkened at the memory and he spat out "father" as though the word was bile to him. I wondered what this horrible secret was, but the dark bitterness upon Guy's face kept me from asking.

"For a time after that I didn't want to live," Guy said softly. "Only anger was in my heart. One day, out in the stable yards, I saw a young colt, only about a year old, being beaten. Turned out he was a spirited animal and even threw my father when he tried to ride him.

"After that day they tried to break his spirit and when he wouldn't yield – they were going to kill him with their cruelty," Guy continued. "I took up a stick myself and started beating the servants away from the horse. They quickly fled and I turned to the colt. He had bloody scratches and bruises upon him and looked at me in fear and anger as he had only known pain and cruelty from men. That day I took him away with me out into the pasture, away from the castle.

"The days passed and he became less frightened and his wounds healed. Then one day I placed a saddle upon him and mounted him. He snorted and looked as though he too might throw me, but then he just pawed the ground and without me spurring him on, he took off in a full gallop across the pasture. I should have been terrified, being astride a wild horse, but it felt exhilarating, the wind in my hair, the rush of the ground beneath me. It was the first time I felt happiness, freedom. I felt as though Fury and I were one."

Guy paused in his story and his eyes turned almost lovingly upon the stallion.

"Since then I've ridden no other horse – I've wanted no other. There were times where I felt Fury was my only friend … Now only Fury remains to me now."

He turned his eyes down, reflection and sadness in them.

"Not only Fury," I said.

I drew closer to Guy and softly touched Fury's neck. Guy lightly smiled, then gently grasped my hand and kissed it. I lost myself in his beautiful eyes and felt as though I was the luckiest woman in the world. But then I heard the quick fall of footsteps and hurriedly slipped my hand from Guy and turned to hide in one of the stable stalls. A Wolf Warrior ran into the stable and jumped upon a bay mare.

"We are to ride to glory – or to spill our blood in honor of Fenris," cried the Wolf Warrior. "Norman scum ride from the south!"

I wondered how Guy felt at the insult to the Normans – his brethren – but I heard no retort from Guy.

"From the south? Do they ride from Nottingham," Guy asked, a sharp urgency edging his voice.

"All I know is they are soldiers worthy of death! Enough talk! Leave the chatter to women! Hail Fenris!"

I heard the Wolf Warrior give a war cry and charge out of the stable. As soon as I heard the hoof beats retreat into the distance, I ran out of the stall, desperate to see Guy before he left. He paused, our eyes briefly meeting.

"Be careful," I cried.

"Don't worry, my lady." Guy grinned. "I'm a better rider and swordsman than the lot of these animals. I will not fall in battle!"

With that, Fury charged through the stable door and they both were gone.

I felt dread when I heard Guy was going to meet the Norman soldiers, his own kind, in battle. Although the Wolf Warriors had been successful with their surprise attacks and the barbarity of their tactics, the thought of Norman soldiers sent a shiver through me. I remembered too well how they slaughtered what little resistance we had made. How could Guy vanquish armored soldiers in little better than a sword and wolf skins?

_Please, God, let him be safe. Don't let him die, _I desperately prayed.


	6. Riding Lessons

I stayed awhile at the stable door, watching Guy ride into the distance with the other Wolf Warriors, as if my gaze could follow him to whatever unknown battle they rode to. But once they vanished into the forest, I realized how ridiculous my thought was and began to wander out among the fields from the abbey. If I couldn't follow them, I would at least stay within sight of them when they returned. I settled into the herb and vegetable garden the monks had left, and tended to the small crop it yielded.

The sun was half past midday when I saw the warriors returning with their Norman captives. It must have been an easy ambush for them to return so quickly as I had expected they would come back – if at all – near the evening. I recognized Fury and saw Guy was riding near the rear of the cavalry.

I stood up amongst a row of cabbages, hoping Guy would see me. He turned his head briefly, but didn't know if he truly recognized me or thought I was just one of the other she-wolves. He continued to ride on with the warriors into the abbey. The sun crawled across the sky and I thought I should return to the abbey soon, but then I saw a black stallion with a Wolf Warrior returning from the abbey and racing across the field. I was torn between wanting to stand in the garden to be readily visible or hiding if it was another Wolf Warrior with malicious intent. But I stood and just made sure I had a knife close on hand if it was someone I did not wish to see.

As the stallion drew closer, I could recognize the golden hair flowing in the wind and the familiar features of Guy. Relief and joy swept over me and I sheathed my knife. He stopped Fury just outside the perimeter of the garden and smiled as he dismounted.

"Guy! I'm so glad to see you're not hurt!"

I jumped up into his arms and kissed him. He chuckled as our lips parted.

"How silly of you to worry about me," Guy laughed. "I'm a trained soldier … and what are the lot of these barbarians? They'll fall in battle before I will!"

"It doesn't matter how great a soldier you are – if you were outnumbered."

"Now you teach me about war –."

"I just worry for you."

The amused smile changed to a soft grin upon his lips.

"I know you do … You don't know how much that means to me."

I smiled bashfully, feeling like a silly love struck girl. Guy suddenly wrapped his arms around me and lifted me off my feet, carrying me as lightly as if I was a feather pillow.

"Guy," I gasped in surprise.

"I think it's time you got away from this place."

Before I realized it, he was carrying me to Fury and slipped me on to his back. I must admit I felt more terrified than exhilarated being astride the huge, powerful beast. Fury clapped his hooves in impatience and I realized just how high up off the ground I was. It took every ounce of restraint within me not to grasp Fury's neck in terror. The saddle then slightly tilted as Guy placed his boot within the stirrup and slid up behind me on the saddle as easily as though he were easing into a familiar chair.

Guy must have felt how tense I was as he wrapped his arm around my waist – a gesture I normally would have loved, but was too terrified to enjoy.

"Hey, there's nothing to be afraid of," he whispered, almost in the same soothing tone I imagined he used when his horse was jittery. "Fury will take good care of us, won't you boy?"

Fury snorted and stomped his hooves upon the ground. I didn't know if that was a No or a Yes, but Guy seemed quite satisfied with the reply.

"We'll start out slow, eh," he whispered into my ear and I could feel his hot breath upon his neck.

I felt him slightly shift behind me as his heels lightly kicked Fury's sides and we started off at a trot. I imagined Guy must have seen sacks of grain sit better upon horses than I must have looked, stiff as a board and as natural upon his magnificent stallion as a lowly peasant trying to ride a nobleman's horse. But after a few minutes, my muscles began to ache at keeping such a stiff, uncomfortable posture and I realized Guy wouldn't let me fall off. As I eased my position and leaned back a bit against Guy, I could feel the warmth of his naked chest pressing against the thin fabric of my gown and felt the rhythm of his breath tickling my neck.

We rode across the length of the field and just as I was getting used to the rhythm and pace of the trot, Guy then said:

"Okay, Fury, show us what you really can do!"

I didn't even feel Guy shift to give Fury a kick, but Fury almost immediately broke into a full gallop. The wind blew full into my face and the ground became a blur beneath us. I was exhilarated and terrified, fearing again I'd fall off and maybe get trampled. But Guy's arm held me firmly, as I imagined he did when he held one of those enormous spearhead-shaped shields with him into battle. As my fear subsided and enjoyed the rush of the speed upon the powerful stallion, I began to notice – for perhaps the first time – Guy leaning into me and his hips moving in perfect time with the gait of the horse. They truly seemed one entity and I could see how Guy could treasure such a magnificent animal.

As we neared the forest's edge, he slowed Fury's pace and almost seemed to hesitate going into the trees, even though just hours ago he had ridden boldly into them with the warriors.

"What's wrong," I asked.

"Just – just I have bad experiences within forests. I don't feel comfortable unless I'm backed up by some men."

"Why? Did something happen? Are there dangers in there?"

"Not this particular wood – no – just you never know who may be in there."

He turned Fury away and we rode the length of the field until we found a small river several miles from Grimston where just a small grove of silver birch and willow grew near the water's edge. Guy dismounted from Fury and tethered his rein to a slender birch sapling before he wrapped his arms around me and slid me off Fury's back.

"Maybe we should rest here a bit."

He touched the wolf pelt upon his shoulders and unbound it from around his neck. He gently placed it upon the grass and spread it out.

"After you, my lady," he said with a courtly wave of his hand.

I almost giggled at this, but sat down upon the fur. Guy joined me and maybe as an excuse – because the wolf pelt wasn't that big – he sat quite close to me. We both sat awhile, watching the river gently flow and gazed at the rippling reflection of the swaying willows upon the water. The late summer daisies were in bloom and clover dotted the grass along the river bank. Several sparrows and a magpie flitted among the branches.

I felt the warmth of his broad, muscular arm pressing against mine as we sat side by side upon the small fur pelt. I imagined how strong he must be, riding a horse and swinging a sword in full armor. No wonder he carried me as easily as though I was a child in his arms!

Guy lightly smiled, bringing out a hint of his dimples, and plucked a beautiful blue cornflower that grew at the edge of the pelt we sat upon. He almost seemed shy when he handed it to me and I felt like a bashful maiden myself as I accepted it. How odd we were acting like nervous young lovers when we had already spent a night of passion, but in an odd way this quiet moment together by the river seemed more intimate and personal somehow.

Perhaps feeling too self-conscious to gaze into Guy's eyes, I studied the flower in feigned fascination and noticed it was the same color as the Norman robes Guy once wore. I was still looking at the flower when Guy plucked another cornflower and gently slipped it behind my left ear into my hair.

"Flowers for my lady," Guy whispered. "I wish I could give you more."

I shook my head.

"Guy, they are so beautiful. The color reminds me of your eyes."

I gazed up from the flower at Guy and saw something so tender and loving in his eyes. I was almost frightened – for I realized my heart belonged to him. As if trying to distract myself from my feelings, I gently slipped a small pouch from a fold within my dress. I unwrapped the canvas cloth and revealed three small cakes I had baked. Guy's eyes lit up when he saw the food.

"I see you are better prepared than me," Guy chuckled. "I didn't even think about bringing something to eat when I left Grimston."

"Then it's good one of us is planning ahead," I lightly laughed.

I handed him one of the cakes while taking the other for myself. We munched in silence and again I felt self-conscious, a love stricken girl who doesn't know what to say to her gallant knight. I still was munching so thoughtfully on my cake, I didn't realize Guy had already finished and was looking at the one cake left in the open canvas upon my lap. I had just swallowed the last of the cake when Guy quickly snatched up the remaining cake and cried:

"This is mine as well!"

I was shocked at the sudden motion, but saw instead of him popping it into his mouth; he broke a piece off of it and held it out to my lips. I looked at him in surprise and saw mirth sparkling in his beautiful eyes.

"Go ahead, my lady."

I shyly smiled and took the cake into my mouth. My lips brushed against his fingertips and realized in that instant he was repeating the gesture I had first done for him – feeding him. He then broke off another piece and held it out to me. This time I took more of his fingers into my mouth, gently sucking upon them before he removed them to retrieve another piece. When the cake was half spent, Guy made a motion to feed me more of it, but I shook my head.

"No, I am satisfied. It is now your turn."

Without awaiting his consent, I took the cake back and broke off a piece, which I subsequently held to his lips.

"Don't you think you've fed me enough," Guy asked, amusement in his eyes.

"I'll tell you when you've had enough, Sir Guy."

"Then if it so pleases my lady." And the dimples bloomed upon his cheeks as he smiled.

I held the cake out to him and felt my fingertips brush against his soft lips. With each piece of cake, Guy's eyes gazed into mine and I could feel the soft suction of his lips upon my fingertips and sometimes the touch of his hot tongue, licking them clean. When the last of the cake was gone, I drew closer to him, looking into those soft, soulful eyes of his and pressed my lips to his.

I could still taste the sweetness of the cake upon his lips and felt Guy gently caress my cheek. When our lips parted, Guy's eyes opened, as if half in a dream and gazed into my mine. How far that look was from the cold hatred I first saw in them when I visited him in the prison cell. He looked at me as though I was an angel or a goddess – when I realized in my heart of was neither of these.

Guy drew close to me and softly pressed his lips to mine, an affectionate, loving gesture rather than a passionate one. As our lips parted, Guy's forehead pressed against mine and I wrapped my arms around him, wanting never to be parted from him. Guy kissed me again, this time more deeply, as if pouring the conviction of his love into that one kiss. Tenderly, Guy eased me on to the fur pelt, where he lay beside me. I pressed my head upon his naked chest. He gently rested his hand upon my head and deeply sighed.

We lay in silence awhile and then I heard Guy say:

"How strange life is."

I raised my head from his chest to look at Guy. He gazed at me with such tenderness and affection.

"I once thought I was happy. I had power, money, status. I was the captain of the guards and a steward. You would think I had everything, but I was angry – angry and lonely. And here, when I have nothing – I now have everything."

"Didn't you have a sweetheart in your old life," I asked. "Surely you had some lady?"

Guy's eyes turned away, gazing at the gently flowing river.

"No, not a one. I was attracted to some and one woman I really loved – or thought I did. But all she did was hate me. Even when I asked her to marry me," he laughed bitterly. "She said she'd rather be dead than to be my wife … After that, I felt no woman would ever love me."

Guy slipped his hand to mine and gently touched the back of my hand to his lips, a courtly kiss of a lord to his lady.

"As Abbot Hugo would always say, 'The Lord works in mysterious ways,'" Guy said softly.

Indeed the Lord did work in mysterious ways. When I was abducted from my village, my parents murdered, my people slaughtered, I felt death had already claimed me – claimed my heart and soul – that my life was over. And now I lay in the arms of my love, feeling such sweetness I had never known in my life.

Guy said the woman he loved hated him. Would I have acted any differently had I met Guy back in Halam, when he was in service to his lord? Then I rather would have spat in the face of a Norman soldier than to take one into my heart. Would I have been any different to Guy if he asked me to be his wife then? Sadly, within my soul, I probably would have wished for death as well rather than to wed any Norman.

The wind suddenly blew cold and a cloud drifted over the sun.

"It will be night soon," Guy sighed. "It is best we return before we are hunted for."

I nodded and reluctantly we returned to Fury. Thankfully the sun had not set when we returned to Grimston Abbey, although we realized we had tarried too long back at the grove. Shock and terror pierced me when I saw Grendel waiting at the stable, suspicion on his face. As Guy halted Fury at the stable entrance, Grendel approached us.

"Well you sure took your time, Guy of Gisburne. What did you do, lose your way while trying to fetch this wench?"

"It was not that," Guy replied. "She hid amongst the fields when I tried to find her – and then she had the impudence to fight me. She paid for it, I assure you!"

"Did you," Grendel asked, still suspicious. "She doesn't look like you beat her."

Guy slyly smiled, not showing the fear we both were feeling. "No, I did not beat her … that is not my way."

Without warning, he grabbed me fiercely to him and he pressed a rough kiss to my lips. I was shocked and partly angry. I knew Guy was just doing this for show, to allay suspicion, but I felt like a whore putting on a show before Grendel. I shoved Guy away, as though his very touch disgusted me, and slapped him sharply across the cheek.

The loud _whack _made Grendel laugh and I felt some guilt seeing the red mark rise upon Guy's pale skin. I didn't want to wait and see what other sickening show we would have to do for Grendel's satisfaction, so I wriggled out of Guy's grasp and nearly fell on to the ground as I tried to dismount. As soon as I was on my feet, I ran away, trying to put on my best infuriated look as possible.

Once I was out of sight, I snuck around the corner to hear what they said.

"Well, glad to see someone is finally taming that vicious she-wolf," Grendel sighed. "She's been nothing but trouble since she's joined us. She won't even give us pleasure like our other lusty she-wolves. Damn useless, if you ask me."

"No, not useless," laughed Guy.

"So you had your way with her? Good. That might loosen her up for the rest of us."

My face burned brightly with the insult and although Guy really hadn't said anything about our time together, the insinuation that I was his slut disgusted and angered me. Even though I knew in my heart he couldn't defend me – that it would give our relationship away – I felt somehow a nobleman, a gallant knight, would defend his lady's honor!

"Next time don't take so long fetching her," said Grendel. "If you must enjoy her, do it back here. Gulnar wants us all to stay close to the abbey. He feels an attack is coming – from Robin Hood."

"Robin Hood?!"

Again I heard that same urgent, hungry tone in Guy's voice. First Nottingham, now Robin Hood. What was Guy's connection to both? The name Robin Hood was vaguely familiar. Fairy tales of this "Robin Hood" had reached even our little town of Halam – ridiculous tales of robbing from the rich and giving to the poor. My father long blustered how these tales were nonsense and Robin Hood and his men never existed. After all, what was in it for Robin Hood? Why not keep the wealth to himself? Why help anyone at risk to himself and his band of robbers?

This Robin Hood was of no concern to me – though it was rumored these tales inspired the small group of young men who stood up to the Normans in Halam – and subsequently were slaughtered. So much for idealism and dreams of liberty from our Norman oppressors; in the end it all really was a fairy tale.

But Nottingham did sound familiar – wasn't that close to Sherwood Forest where Robin Hood supposedly dwelled? And who also was in that story? Sheriff the Rat-hold and his foolish captain, Gadfly of Gizzard?

I felt more discomfort as I recalled some of the ridiculous stories – Robin Hood who was able to literally disappear, who could turn into a deer-headed ghost to scare the Normans, who shot arrows made of fire and could take on the appearance of any man. Surely the tales could not be real – nor the mad sheriff and his idiot captain.

I was so lost in thought, I hardly realized Guy and Grendel had stopped talking. Footsteps were coming my way and I found the only hiding place I could. I slipped into a small crevice in back of three large beer barrels.

"Tonight will be a special treat," said Grendel. "The prisoners will either join us – or we can use them for sport after our feast … And maybe by tomorrow we'll have this so-called Robin Hood. He would be a great target for our next axe-throwing contest, don't you agree?"

"Yes … I think he would be excellent for that."

It was Guy's voice and I heard something I hadn't before – a malicious delight in his voice.


	7. Revenge

That night was a feast in the Great Hall that went into the early hours of the morning. Drunken Wolf Warriors stumbled through the hallways to their beds (if they made it that far) or simply passed out in a stupor. It was too precarious for me to try to find Guy, so I had to content myself with returning to my cold cell alone.

My bed seemed even more empty, thinking back on the sweet, brief time we spent in the grove and the love I had felt there – and the sudden change in Guy at the first taste of revenge. Would I find the same Guy tomorrow morning? I gazed at the cold moonlight shining through my narrow stone window. I pulled up my woolen blanket over me, imagining it was Guy's arms around me.

The Wolf Warriors were still busy nursing their hangovers when the first cock crowed. Gulnar fixed a noxious concoction to clear their heads and stir the madness within them. By the late morning, they thirsted for blood and were eager to fight.

Prisoners from a tiny town of Wickam – a place I had never heard of – were brought into the Great Hall. I was sickened to see the prisoners were women and children. What use did the warriors have with them – surely they would not be asked to join. Would they all be used as a sacrifice to Fenris? Gulnar slyly smiled and ordered they be taken to the highest tower in the abbey.

I saw Guy briefly within the Great Hall. A wolf pelt hung down his back and the wolf's head obscured his hair in a gruesome fur hood. He was sharpening his sword with a whetstone, completely absorbed in a routine that must have been common enough in his old life. Maybe he felt some normalcy in the old habit as the warriors howled their war cries.

Gulnar suddenly raised his arms and even though his voice wasn't loud, when he called for silence, the warriors stopped and turned to their master.

"It is now time," said Gulnar in the eerie silence. "Robin Hood is close. Prove your loyalty to Fenris! Wild and savage as the wolf you will be in battle! May Fenris give you the strength to tear apart Robin Hood and his men as rabbit is torn by a wolf's fangs!"

"Hail Fenris! Hail Gulnar," cried the Wolf Warriors.

As the warriors charged out of the Great Hall, Guy dropped his whetstone and eagerly followed them, a strange madness and hunger burning in his eyes. I rushed to one of the windows facing the battle, following where Guy fought as he charged out into the melee on Fury. It was then – for the first time – I saw the legendary Robin Hood and his men in the flesh. The supernatural aura surrounding them vanished very quickly.

They looked and acted just like men. And if Robin Hood was capable of superhuman feats, why did he continue fighting with a sword – like any other man? I didn't know, out of all the rough-dressed men, who was Robin Hood? Maybe it was the man with the two knives or the fiery warrior wielding his sword like a madman from Hell. But whoever it was – the battle was soon over – and by shameful means. I heard the frightened cries of the women and children above me and saw they intended to hurl them to their deaths if Robin Hood and his men did not surrender.

_You cowards, _I thought._ You filthy swine! You can't win this battle fairly so you use women and children to win it for you!_

I tried to see the look on Guy's face – if he was equally horrified by the barbarism – but I was unable to see him at such a distance. I saw him raise his sword to a delicate-looking man with long blond hair. Was this the mythic Robin Hood? No, this must be one of his men.

Swiftly the warriors bound them and led them into the Great Hall as prisoners. I did not see Guy for the rest of the evening or later that morning. I discovered he had left soon after dawn with several of the Wolf Warriors on a hunting party. More Norman soldiers were coming, supposedly to attack the abbey, and the Sons of Fenris planned an early and unexpected ambush.

It wasn't until late afternoon when the fierce wolf howls echoed through the Great Hall from the returning, victorious Wolf Warriors. What few Norman soldiers remained from the battle (what I more heard was a slaughter) were paraded in triumph before the idol of the fierce wolf god. As had happened countless times before with so many other men, they were all asked to join – join or die. Some of the young soldiers agreed to join, but the older, more loyal ones either refused or spat in the face of Grendel. A few were immediately put to death as an example to all the others, but one or two were spared for sport or as a later sacrifice to Fenris.

Guy entered the hall and proudly brought forth a captive Norman lord. Guy was not the same man I had spent the afternoon in the grove with. A madness and malicious satisfaction gleamed in his eyes. He shoved the Norman lord before him, who looked back at Guy with defiance and anger. When Gulnar demanded who the lord was, Guy answered: Robert de Rainault, The Sheriff of Nottingham.

Robert de Rainault the sheriff? Was this the same man in the Robin Hood tales? No, this could not be the same mad, stupid sheriff! I suddenly recalled the odd question Guy asked to the Wolf Warrior before they rode into battle:

_From the south? Do they ride from Nottingham?_

Was this the same lord who had betrayed Guy? Was Guy the 'Gadfly of Gizzard' in the tales I had heard? No, he couldn't be. "Gizzard" was a buffoon, a complete imbecile, a lustful brute forcing himself on Saxon virgins. This wasn't Guy!

I saw Guy draw his sword and press the sword's edge at the sheriff's throat, offering to end his life for Gulnar. Could this be the same Guy who just a few nights before was revolted at the blood sport of the warriors? Who shunned seeing them slaughter and sacrifice prisoners to their god? Madness and a dark delight dwelled in those beautiful eyes – where I had seen such love and tenderness. Had it been so quickly burned away in the fires of revenge?

When Guy was told he could not kill the sheriff, angry disappointment was upon his face as he sheathed his sword. It came as no surprise to me that the sheriff refused to join the warriors and they dragged him away to be chained up in some dark, God forsaken place within these walls.

* * *

I found Guy in the corridor while he was on his way to his chambers. He smiled as he saw me and caught me up in his arms, spinning me around in happiness.

I failed to feel the same enthusiasm.

"I'm still angry at you with what happened in the stable," I said. "Now Grendel thinks I'm your whore!"

"Now Anne – you're my lady and I love you … You know I couldn't let Grendel know how I really feel about you. If I defended your honor –"

"I know," I sighed. "I just wish you didn't allow him to think such lies!"

His smile faded and Guy slowly lowered me to the ground.

"You're right. A real knight, truly worthy of you, would fight the last of these animals to the death rather than besmirch your honor so." Guy said this in all seriousness. "I am sorry I am so unworthy of you. You deserve a far nobler man than me."

Such sadness dwelled in his eyes I couldn't feel anger anymore. Instead of wasting time on a useless argument, I gave him a loving, tender kiss.

"Let us talk no more on this," I said. "You are the only man I could want."

Guy gently smiled, his dimples softly coming to his cheeks.

"But I've yet to tell you the good news," said Guy, his face brightening. "The most wonderful thing that could have happened! Not only have we caught Robin Hood, but now I'll have my revenge on the man who betrayed me! Even I never dreamed it would happen this way! At last I have everything I've wanted and soon Robin Hood will be dead!"

"But what of the women and children? Did you know –"

"Anne, that was not my idea. I would have preferred a fair fight. Believe me, if I was given just a little more time, I would have killed Robin Hood! Only these animals resort to such dishonorable means!"

"So you have been hunting Robin Hood all this time. You are Giz- … uh … the captain of the guards to Nottingham."

"I once was," Guy sighed. "And at last I will be avenged for all the humiliation and insult I've had to endure because of Robin Hood! It is only because of that Wolfshead the sheriff blamed me – offered my neck to save his own!"

"And the sheriff … the one you served, are you content to let him die as well?"

Anger and coldness suddenly flashed into Guy's eyes; it reminded me too much of how I first saw him, chained in the dungeon.

"That 'sheriff' – who I served faithfully for so long – was hoping to kill me! But finally he is going to get what he deserves! He'll pay for what he's done to me – for how he's treated me all these years!"

Vengeance shined in his eyes, a thirst for revenge and a growing madness. The man I loved was being stripped away, eaten alive by his vengeance. Every part of me rebelled, wanted to yank him back from the brink I had seen so many young men plunge over in their blind service to Fenris. I knew once he tumbled over, only blood and madness would be waiting for him and he'd be lost forever.

"No, Guy. You mustn't!"

A frown crossed over his brow and angry confusion dwelled in his eyes.

"You mustn't let them kill him – not your lord. I know he was cruel and evil to you, betraying you to save himself … But if you let them kill him – or even worse – if you kill him yourself – your soul will belong to him – to Fenris!"

Guy looked at me in disbelief and stared at me with growing coldness and anger.

"You must believe me, Guy. I almost was gone myself – lost to them – no better than an animal, living for death and cruelty … You should escape, escape with your lord and …" I wanted to add "and me," but it died in my throat before I could speak it. "He would be thankful then – thankful you saved his life. He would forever be indebted to you."

Guy's jaw tensed and anger burned within his eyes.

"Would that make you happy, Anne? Is that what you want?"

Many improbable ideas crossed my mind – our escape together from Gulnar and the Wolf Warriors. His lord might pardon Guy because of his rescue – and then Guy might take me as his wife. Bitterness rose within me as I dreamt my self-made fantasy. Who was I to imagine I'd have a life with Guy after this – that he would wed me and we would love each other until the end of our days? What fairy tale did I think I was living in? I was only a peasant – Anne of Halam – of a small village that no longer existed. No knight would wed a dowerless woman without any land. Women like me only married within their class, farmers or tradesmen – or were the whores to men of higher status.

"Well," demanded Guy. "Would sparing the sheriff make you happy? Do you even know about the Sheriff of Nottingham? Did you ever hear about him back in Halam?"

I remained silent, fighting against the tears rising in my eyes.

"He would starve whole villages to curry favor with the king," Guy cried. "He'd sell out his mother if it would gain him more coin! He'd burn down the homes of women and children if it suited him! Is this the man you think would spare my life?"

I stood silent, afraid my voice would betray my sadness and anger.

"The truth is – after all my years of loyal service to him – he is willing to offer my head to spare his own. This is the reward I get!"

"If he was such a terrible lord, why did you continue to serve him," I demanded.

His jaw clenched and a heavy silence settled between us.

"Because – because there was no where else for me to go," he at last said bitterly.

I thought I saw angry tears well within his eyes.

"And what will you do once your lord is dead," I finally asked. "You will have no choice but to remain here. You'll be a slave to Gulnar."

Madness flashed into his eyes.

"I am no one's slave and certainly not to that sniveling maggot! Everything I've always wanted has happened here. Robin Hood has been captured; I am no longer the whipping boy of de Rainault! You ask me to save the sheriff's life and grovel back to him like – like some dog?"

"Guy, no I –"

"To be blamed for his incompetence, to once again be the laughingstock of Notthingham, to be cursed and mocked by his court – by even the serfs?!"

"Guy –"

"My old life is over – what good is it now? To beg forgiveness of that rat King John? I'd rather stay here than to grovel like a wretched beggar! This is the Time of the Wolf! I would be a fool to deny it."

"But you are a fool," I cried. "Don't you see? There is nothing but death here!"

"I will not be lectured to – not by you – not by anyone!"

"This is madness!"

"You're the one who's mad," Guy spat. "Keep silent about matters you know nothing about!"

"How could you be so blind? You fool," I screamed.

Rage and madness burned in his eyes and I saw his strong hands clench.

"You're just like all the others," Guy said bitterly. "You never loved me."

He turned away and stalked down the corridor, disappearing into the shadow.


	8. Abandoned

Pride kept me from searching for Guy after our quarrel – pride and anger. I figured if anyone, Guy should be the one looking for me, to apologize. But he never returned to the kitchen and never sought for me in my chamber. I mostly avoided going into the Great Hall, knowing I'd see him there. I didn't want Guy to think I was looking for him, that I was some desperate, foolish girl who would suffer any insult just for his love.

Once I had no choice as the other she-wolves were busy pawing one of the prisoners bound to a stone column. I was forced to bring up a basket of apples from the orchard. The warriors were laughing and wagering how long a wretched captive would last before he was cleaved like an overripe melon during their axe-throwing contest.

The blood sport disgusted me and would have averted my eyes, but I saw the wretched captive was Guy's lord who, at any moment, would be killed. I turned my eyes away and saw Guy standing off to the side, watching the perverted game. Briefly our eyes met and he looked down in shame. Bitterness and disgust rose within me and already felt in my heart that the man I loved was lost to me.

God knows I tried to forget about Guy, but an emptiness grew within my soul and my anger turned to sadness. Could not Guy still be saved? More and more I felt that the Sons of Fenris were not convinced of Guy's loyalty, especially after our excursion to the grove, and that they'd put him to some horrible and cruel test. Most new initiates are tested in some way as proof of their devotion. If they pass, their soul is lost to Fenris, and if they reject it – they'd be immediately killed by the Wolf Warriors. I could sense this test would come soon and in an unexpected form.

_They will ask him to kill his lord._

This thought came to me almost with the conviction of a prophecy. It would make sense. He'd sever all ties to his previous life and he could never go back – not ever – not to the king or any other lord. He'd be shunned, an outcast and a criminal. Guy would then have no choice but to live and die under Gulnar.

My first instinct was to go and warn Guy, but my hurt pride kept me from seeking him out. He hadn't listened to my warnings before and chastised me as well. Instead I busied myself in my chores, trying to forget the nagging warning in my mind.

I was not thinking of Guy when I first heard the fierce howls of the Wolf Warriors or the shouts of men echoing down the hall. Suddenly I smelled smoke and heard the harsh clatter and scraping of swords. Terror pierced me as I realized one of my worst fears had come to pass – the prisoners had escaped! I firmly grabbed hold of my longest, sharpest knife, while I slipped smaller, lighter knives in a belt with two leather sheaths.

I was determined not to act the foolish hero. If I could hide and wait out the fight I would. If the prisoners were victorious, I'd wait until night then crawl through one of the ground-level abbey windows and disappear into the forest. I crouched beneath the large wooden table in the kitchen and rubbed some dust on to my face and arms so I'd be harder to see.

My heart raced as the howls and sword clatter grew closer. I gripped the knife so firmly in my hand my fingers began to ache and the sweat from my palm slicked the handle. I heard footsteps approaching and prayed they'd pass by the kitchen. The footsteps approached the door then stopped. It was difficult to hear if he entered or continued while my heartbeat thundered in my ears. Then I saw it – rough, leather-worn shoes and ragged woolen pants just two feet away from me as I crouched beneath the table. The legs slowly moved around the table and then I heard a clatter of metal – not of swords but of a ladle scraping into the pot. The escaped prisoner was hungry and was eating some of my soup!

"Not bad, not bad at all," I heard the prisoner mutter.

My legs began to tremble from sitting in a crouching position so long. In fatigue, my foot slipped and scraped upon the stone floor.

"Hey! Who's there," demanded the prisoner.

I didn't stand up from beneath the table, but rolled out from under it, firmly grasping my knife. I hoped to roll close to the door beneath his line of view and then would jump up and make my escape once I was clear of the room. But he must have heard me as he ran around the table and caught me upon the floor near the edge of the door. Nearly defenseless off my feet, I took a quick swipe at the exposed skin near his ankle and the knife hit home. The prisoner screamed and cursed at the cut. Sadly I could see it was a minor wound and wouldn't cripple him.

I rolled on to my feet, my knife at the ready. Already I could see I was outmatched – he carried a long broad-sword and would have an easier time wounding me at a distance. Frantically, I pulled out the second knife from my belt.

"You're going to pay for cutting me," cried the prisoner.

Swiftly he lunged at me, but I dodged the sword's sweep and slashed my knife wide to cut into his side. It only ripped at his shirt and only made him angrier. With a fierce scream, he swung his sword and I tried to block it with my long knife while trying to cut him with my dagger.

Too often he was too far away and when his sword pressed against my knife, he leaned his weight upon it, trying to crush the sword into me. As the sword moved closer and closer to me, its sharp edge gleaming, in desperation I threw my second knife. My aim was poor and it merely grazed the edge of his torso before it hit home – shivering in the wall.

"I'm gonna kill you," he screamed.

He threw back his sword and swung it towards me. I ducked and grabbed an earthen vessel, which I promptly smashed over his head. Cheap wine dripped off his lank, wet hair and down his face, staining his dirty white tunic. I tried to make a run for the door while he was still stunned, but I heard his footsteps fast behind me.

I grabbed the handle of the broom and swung it, whacking the bristles full into his face. His frustrated scream was muffled as I shoved the bristles into his mouth and he raised the sword to cut the broom in two. I delivered a sharp kick to his shin and he uttered a howl in pain, nearly dropping his sword in the process. I turned toward the door, my hard-won freedom at hand, when I realized it was now blocked. The prisoner's friends had arrived – and stood before me.

I knew my death would come now. Terror and despair settled upon me as a heavy, choking shroud. Now the only question was would I die fighting or accept my fate? If I fought, the small consolation might be I'd breathe my last before they violated me. I heard the prisoner in the kitchen approaching me. I whirled around, trying to get my back to a wall, while keeping my knife at the ready.

"Will! That's enough!"

The same delicate-looking blond man I had seen outside Grimston Abbey and who was bound to a stone pillar for the enjoyment of the she-wolves, stepped through the door. The prisoner's eyes turned to the young man, his sword still in attack position toward me.

"But this wench started it! Look, she cut me!"

The prisoner, which I assumed was "Will," showed his bleeding ankle.

"And I wonder why she did that," said the blond man, an amused grin on his face. "From the look of it, you've scared her half to death."

"Scared her?! Just look at her," cried Will. "She's one of them!"

Indeed I must have looked like a perfect she-wolf by that point, covered in dirt, hair disheveled and half-mad.

"Will, we don't fight women," said the blond man. "Is that understood?"

Will ground his teeth, anger smoldering in his eyes. "Yes, I perfectly understand."

Will jammed his sword into his sheath and stalked out. As the blond entered the room, a few of his men followed him, but kept a respectful distance from me. The blond held up his hand and brandished no weapon at me.

"Listen, I know you're frightened," he said. "We won't hurt you."

I held my knife tighter and felt myself trembling inside. It was just a trick, to gain my trust and then abuse me.

"Maybe you've heard of me. My name is Robin Hood. These are my men, Friar Tuck, Nasir and Much."

I was surprised when I saw Much. He didn't look like a warrior at all. He still was a boy in many ways with sincerity in his face and a surprising innocence in his eyes. I thanked God Gulnar never had a chance to sink his claws into him and twist him.

"I know you've already met Will," said Robin. "Sometimes he can get carried away … If you are prisoner here, you no longer need stay. Gulnar has fled and his men are defeated."

My arm trembled and felt my strength begin to leave me. My fear was quickly being replaced by despair.

"And Guy – I mean Gisburne," I said. "Is he dead?"

Robin frowned and concern crossed his face.

"Gisburne is no longer here," said Robin. "I saw him flee with the sheriff."

Then he did leave with his lord – and he left without me.

"My lady, did Gisburne wrong you," Robin asked.

A silence passed between us as Robin's gentle eyes looked at me.

"Yes," I finally said.

His men exchanged glances, their faces set in determination.

"What has he done? We might be able to help you," said Robin.

I slowly shook my head, trying to fight back the tears, but my vision swam before me and I knew it wouldn't be long before I lost it completely.

"Even you cannot help me, Robin Hood," I whispered.

I lowered my knife and closed my eyes as the tears ran down my cheeks.


	9. Kindness

The memory of what happened immediately after was a blur. Friar Tuck, led me out of Grimston while Robin left and the rest of the men were trying to gather the Wickam villagers together.

"Don't you worry," Tuck assured me. "He'll soon be back and then we can help you with Gisburne."

It wasn't until we had left the abbey and walked some way with the Wickam villagers that some of my shock dissipated but none of my anger. Robin's men made camp in the forest that night, the boy, Much, returned with a few puny hares that must have been runts of the litter. As our meal slowly roasted over the fire, Robin's men asked me about Gisburne, but I was unable to speak more of what happened, at least not that night. I only told them briefly of my time with the Wolf Warriors and what became of my family. But Guy still remained an open wound within me.

Before the sun rose, we awoke and continued to trudge our way to Wickam. I had thought of leaving Robin's men and finding my own way, but my thoughts were still blurred and I remained uncertain of where my path now was. Regardless, I remained far behind the traveling villagers, just keeping them in sight ahead of me. I had heard their whispers and reproachful looks when I came too close and preferred staying away from them.

After many long hours in the hot sun and feet so sore I barely felt I could walk more on them, I saw a small village on the horizon. The weary travelers suddenly became very animated, crying for joy and hugging one another. They had arrived home. I thought of continuing my journey alone as I had no use for Wickam, but Tuck spied me still on the road and approached me.

"It'll be nightfall soon and not safe to be on the road," said the friar. "Wherever you're going, it's best to do so on a full stomach and a good night's sleep."

I was hesitant to follow Tuck, still worried I'd not be welcome in the village, but he insisted and gently touched my arm, leading me away from the road. Already I could smell baking bread and saw a basket of ripe apples set upon a long table set outside. I was tired and very hungry after so long a journey, but I didn't approach the food or dare to come any closer to the villagers. Already venomous looks dug into me like knives. A woman with braided red hair and a plain brown dress glared at me as I passed by. A young maiden nudged her younger brother away from me and then spat in my direction.

"She's one of them," I heard a man whisper, the anger in his voice barely masked.

I realized I did look different from all of them. My hair was disheveled and hung in frizzy knots down my back. All I wore was a dirty and ragged dress and the wolf pelt. It was not out of love for smelly fur pelt I kept it, but necessity as the nights were cold and I used it as blanket to cover me from the chill.

The angry whispers and hate-filled stares grew as I walked through the village. I was ready to turn and leave. I felt at any moment they'd grab whatever weapon they found at hand and kill me in revenge against the Wolf Warriors who had caused them so much pain. But Tuck stopped me and then turned to the Wickam people.

"This is Anne of Halam. She was abducted, just like many of you and suffered under Gulnar, just as you have. She is not responsible for what was done to you. If anything, this poor child needs to be comforted and cared for."

Although I appreciated what Tuck was doing, even worse than dealing with hatred was pity. I didn't want them looking at me for the wretched, outcast creature I now was. Some of the women's looks softened, but not that many, although the whispering ceased. Tuck tried to lead me to the table to sit down and eat with the rest of them, but all I could muster the courage for was to take a piece of bread and an apple and to eat it away from the feasting table.

I was busy finishing my apple, trying to shove the memory of feeding Guy apple slices out of my mind, when I heard the soft rustling of grass behind me. I turned quickly around and instinctively my hand gripped the handle of my knife in its sheath. I saw it was one of the Wickam women. From the look of her she was a woman who had seen over 30 summers, but hardship had begun to age her. Her brunette hair was almost as disheveled as mine and she wore a simple coarse-woven beige gown over a brown shift.

"Listen, I know you were treated badly when you arrived," she said. "We didn't know that such horrible things happened to you. Will you not come back?"

I was tempted, but then shook my head.

"I think it's better if I stay here. It makes it easier for all of us."

The woman's face set in determination.

"Now what kind of nonsense is that? Here, at least let's get you cleaned up."

She gently took my hand, which was still sticky from the apple I had eaten and led me to the village well, where she drew up a bucket of water for me to wash in. I was grateful, but also felt somewhat guilty she was going through so much trouble for me. But the fresh, cool water felt good and it was wonderful to wash some of the dirt and grime away that had embedded in my skin as a she-wolf. When I was done cleaning, she brought me a plain, faded white gown with a dark brown shift, much like what she wore, and a black sash to tie around the waist.

"I'm afraid it's not much, but I won't be needing this dress. It's for a slimmer waist – before I had my son. You can take it."

I felt this was too generous of her and hesitated to except the gift, but she insisted it had been languishing in her chest and would just become food for moths if I didn't accept it. She brought me into her house to dress and as I slipped on the clean gown and tied the sash about my waist, I felt that the clothing was the richest, most beautiful thing I had ever owned.

I had not worn such clothing since before I was taken by the Wolf Warriors. They took the dress my mother had made for me and laughing, burned it while the she-wolves dressed me in a rough-woven gown and hung the wolf skins upon me. I remembered when I first saw Guy dressed as a Wolf Warrior; I wondered if they too had humiliated him, stripped him of his beautiful blue robes and destroyed them before his eyes before they forced him into barbaric clothing and coarse fur.

I looked around to see if there was something I could see my reflection in, but seeing nothing available, I slowly slipped out my knife and gazed at the shifting reflection along the blade. I almost looked like the woman I once knew, the young, naïve girl who had spent all her life in the tiny village of Halam.

I gazed up at the kind woman with nothing but gratitude in my heart.

"It's beautiful, thank you – uh …" I just realized I had accepted her hospitality and her gift and never knew her name.

"I'm Alison, wife to Edward of Wickam," she said, with a smile.

* * *

Later, Robin rode into Wickam and spoke to his men, telling them Herne had been saved – whoever that was – and that Gulnar's creature had also been destroyed. 

I asked him about this creature of Gulnar and was amazed to hear how the clay figure I had heard Gulnar was obsessively working on had been transformed into Robin's double. I knew Gulnar's powers among the dark gods were strong, but I never realized he was capable of bringing to life such a vile creature. But then how many times had I suspected Gulnar was somehow clouding the Wolf Warriors' minds with madness and blood-lust?

But then why was I different – why was Guy different? We had not been completely under Gulnar's sway, although early on I had felt his poison and could see it slowly working its evil in Guy, taking root upon his desire for revenge. Even as I too felt anger, even hatred toward Guy, I wondered as we sat at the communal table in Wickam, had Guy spared his lord so he could trade the sheriff's death for his own? Or maybe he planned a slower, bitterer form of revenge than the sheriff's death? I had no way of knowing.

That night, exhaustion began to take its toll on me. Alison of Wickam was kind enough to offer me a place within her small home to sleep, but I felt I already had accepted too much of her kindness. I slept just outside Wickam, at the periphery of the forest. But as tired as I was, I never fell into a deep sleep. I would awake at any slight sound and still did not feel safe, even with the kindness of Alison or the courtesy of Robin and his men.

The faint rose glow of the sun filled the sky when I awoke to the soft sound of footsteps in the grass. Most of Robin's men were asleep within the forest around a low-burning campfire while Nasir sat up on watch. Robin Hood was walking away from the camp toward a sleek chestnut horse, which was tethered to a young maple tree. I slowly rose from the ground, my bones and muscles aching from the chill and the stones and twigs that had somehow dug into me during the night.

"Where are you going," I asked.

Robin turned, somewhat surprised to see I was awake.

"Now that everyone is safe, I am going to see Marion. She was injured and had to stay at the abbey." Robin's eyes turned away, concern on his face. "I hope she is all right."

"I am sure she is," I said. "From all the tales I've heard, she's as strong as she is beautiful."

Robin looked at me, a dimple lightly whisking across his cheek as he smiled.

"Then the tales are correct, although no tale could accurately describe her beauty or her courage. She's extraordinary. I wish she was here – she could help you, I'm sure."

"I imagine she could," I said softly.

"But soon enough you'll be able to meet her in person," said Robin, shaking himself from whatever dream or memory he was in. "We are now home. You are welcome to stay here with us until you find what road you must take."

"I thank you … I still don't know where I am to go, but I doubt I will tarry here for long."

"If you decide to leave, I wish you a safe journey."

Robin Hood held out his hand and I clasped it in my own. He gave me a brief smile, then turned to his horse, preparing it for the journey ahead.

* * *

Robin's men decided to stay close to Wickam and the road. We rested and I spent some time with Alison and Edward of Wickam. Edward told me of the cruelty they had experienced at Gisburne's hand, how his son had been kidnapped and his wife taken as prisoner without a moment's remorse from Guy. I wondered then if I truly had been wrong all along about Gisburne that his kindness and love were indeed an act and his coldness and anger were his true nature. I wondered if Guy planned to attack Robin or to persecute Wickam, how I would react? Once I wanted to defend him with my life, but now my embittered heart wanted to hurt him.

Two days and a night passed by Wickam. The afternoon of the third day, we saw a man leading a chestnut horse with children riding upon it. Robin's men were happy to see him again, but I saw no joy in the face of the young man.

"I've lost her, John," Robin said to the large man who was only known as Little John. "We all have.

I kept a distance from Robin and his men as he related the sad story of Marion refusing to join them and remaining as a cloistered nun at Halsted Abbey. The men remained silent and the camp took the attitude of mourning a dear friend who was now gone. The men stayed close to the fire, as if trying to replace the light of the fire with the light Marion must have brought to them.

As his men settled in, Robin slowly wandered away from the camp and I followed him, part out of curiosity and part pity. He didn't seem to be going in any set direction or destination and he only finally stopped to rest upon a fallen log near the river's edge. Willows swayed along the bank and sparrows twittered amongst the branches. Robin stared across the river, deep in thought, then suddenly picked up a stone and angrily hurled it into the river. The stone splashed into the water with a loud _plunk_ and crows erupted from the trees across the bank, cawing loudly.

He turned, supposedly to grab another stone to hurl into the water, but then heavily sighed and covered his face with his hand. I thought I saw him tremble and wondered if he was weeping. I suddenly felt guilt at intruding on his privacy and turned to return to the camp. A twig snapped beneath my foot and Robin suddenly looked up. He reached for his bow and demanded:

"Who's there?"

Sheepishly, I walked out from the trees and felt embarrassed he had caught me spying.

"Anne! Why did you leave the camp? You should go back."

"I'm sorry, I just was wondering where you were going," I said.

Robin sighed and lowered his bow, sadness still etched on his face. I turned to walk back into the trees, but Robin then said:

"No, stay a moment. I'll walk you back. These woods can be unsafe and I don't want you to get lost."

I stood and looked at the young man. I wondered if I should sit next to him or remain where I was.

"I haven't said it yet, but I'm sorry to hear about Marion," I said.

Robin didn't look at me, but gazed out at the river.

"I was surprised to hear she wasn't coming back," I said softly. "I had heard tales of the great love Marion has for Robin, that she'd never leave his side."

The young man didn't even look at me, but continued to gaze out into the water.

"That would be the 'other' Robin," he sighed. "She was married once – to Robin of Loxley – that was her first and probably her only love … She'd never leave Loxley, not for anything."

He looked away from the gently flowing water and gazed instead at his muddied boots. I felt such sorrow for him; I knew how devastating a broken heart could be, especially when you believed the person you loved would be with you forever. I took a few steps toward him.

"I don't know if this is any consolation, but women's hearts change," I said.

"I hope so. Although you don't know Marion." Robin sadly smiled. "She can be quite stubborn at times."

I slowly walked toward the log and sat down at its edge.

"It seems that Gulnar had his revenge after all," said Robin. "The creature he made, who looked like me – Marion found him dead and thought I was the one who had been killed. That was why she won't leave Halsted … I shouldn't blame her for it. One day I will be killed … and can't change that. I should want her to be happy. She shouldn't live in fear of the day I won't return."

"I can understand how she feels," I sighed. "But Love doesn't work that way. Even if you lock yourself away in some distant abbey or try to close off your heart, Love still can find you."

Robin turned toward me, sadness in his gray eyes.

"I know Love found me," I said. "I wasn't looking for it – I didn't even desire it, but when it came to me, it wouldn't let go."

Robin stared at me, slow knowing growing in his eyes.

"You loved Gisburne, didn't you," he asked softly.

"I thought I did," I said. "And I thought he loved me."

Robin slowly nodded.

"I know I wasn't expecting to fall in love with Marion, not when I first saw her," said Robin, a sad smile his face. "She was so beautiful and when I saw her dance … I knew she was the only woman I could love. I would sacrifice my life for hers."

I smiled. "She is fortunate to have someone who loves her so … My meeting with Gisburne wasn't sweet or romantic. I thought he was an arrogant fool!"

Robin laughed, amusement in his eyes.

"And now," he asked.

"I still think he's an arrogant fool! Now I wonder if his love was just an act, to get what he wanted from me."

"Well, Gisburne is my enemy," said Robin. "He's angry, even cruel, but Gisburne is a poor actor. He is unable to hide anything … And when he wants something, he pursues it, often without thought of the consequence."

I looked at the young man in surprise.

"All I know is when we fought Gulnar's men, they were ready to kill Gisburne," Robin said. "They wanted him to kill the sheriff and he refused. He couldn't do it."

The revelation somehow shocked me. Guy seemed so bent on revenge, so eager for his lord's blood. And yet he spared his life at risk of his own. Maybe he didn't have a chance to look for me before he fled, especially if the warriors meant to kill Guy for his disobedience. But even as the thought ran through my mind, it didn't console my heart. A part of me wanted to believe he'd risk heaven and earth to be with me, even if I knew it was just a girlish fancy.

Robin gently touched my hand.

"Gisburne was a fool to leave you behind. If it consoles you any, I'll give him a good thrashing next time he comes into Sherwood."

Robin gently laughed, the dimples softly coming to his cheeks and his golden hair catching the dim sunlight. For a moment I thought of Guy although the appearance between the young outlaw and the Norman knight held little similarity. But somehow, for some reason, I felt there was some connection between these two men.


	10. The Ambush

We returned to camp and the next morning we left Wickam. I half thought about staying at the village with Alison and her family, but felt in my heart it was wrong. I was not of her blood and although the villagers didn't loathe me, I still was not welcome either. So I continued with Robin and his men, still uncertain where my path lay.

When we made camp, we were a league from the main road through Sherwood, just far enough away we'd be out of sight if anyone ventured through, but near enough if a large troupe was on the road we'd be sure to hear them. That night odd thoughts ran through my mind of visiting Nottingham now that I was so close. Would Gisburne even be there? Would I be allowed to speak to him if he was? I took many of my questions and nagging worries and pushed them to the back of my mind. I didn't want to face the possibility that my time at Grimston was the last I'd see of him.

After a meager supper of a few roasted hares and some wild berries, the men curled up in their furs and soon were asleep. I snuggled up in my wolf pelt for warmth. Even with my new clothes, I still could not discard the damn fur skin – though I often thought of hurling it angrily away. Sometimes cold dew would cling to the ground and I didn't relish the idea of waking up next morning shivering.

Although I was cozy in the fur, I was unable to sleep and a variety of imaginary scenarios tormented me. One had the sheriff turning Guy in after all and Gisburne being sentenced to death. Another – even worse – had him very much alive, but he had another lover in Nottingham. And another had him reject me outright – I was just a reminder to his shameful past as a Son of Fenris.

I sat up from my bed and thought maybe a walk would exhaust me enough to sleep. I was careful not to leave the general vicinity of the camp – the flickering campfire always remained in my view. I saw Much standing by a tree, keeping watch. I thought it might be welcome to have some company, so I walked over to him. As I drew closer, I saw the boy was not standing so much as leaning on the tree, his eyes closed.

_Asleep on watch, so much for feeling safe_, I thought in amusement.

I wondered if I should wake him, but since I was not a member of Robin's troupe, I thought it'd be rude and decided I might as well keep a lookout as I was the only person who was awake. Remaining concealed and watching for danger was something I was accustomed to while I was a she-wolf, although it was mostly for my own safety rather than for the Sons of Fenris.

I crouched down behind a shrub and then lay on my stomach, looking out between the spaces in the branches. The wind whispered through the forest and the leaves rustled soothingly. Small patches of moonlight flickered through the wood's green canopy. After staring out across the dark columns of trees, I could see how easily Much could fall asleep on watch. It was a dull job and made even more difficult when the forest wind whispered lullabies to you.

I nearly was on my way to close my eyes, even on the cold, twig-strewn bed of the forest floor, when I heard a sharp, very distinct snap of a broken twig. My eyes shot open and I searched through the forest to find the offending nocturnal animal. When I didn't see any animal, my senses picked up even more; normally I would have reached for my knife, but I saw nothing and felt my anxiety was still the legacy of being with the Wolf Warriors for so long. But then I saw it – dark shadows winding their way through the trees and the glint of steel. One shadow raised a crossbow and knocked it back.

I didn't have time to warn Much as it'd be too late – he'd probably already be pierced by an arrow. I quickly rolled from my stomach to my side and gave a swift, sweeping kick at Much's shin. It had the desired double effect; Much fell to the ground and howled in pain. In less than the blink of an eye, an arrow shivered in the tree where a moment ago Much dozed.

The shadows, seeing the alarm had been sounded with Much's howl, charged out from the darkness. I grabbed a rock and hurled it at one of the men coming toward us. Although I was aiming at his head, it hit him full in the shoulder and had no more effect than to make him curse.

"Much, get out of here," I cried and slipped my long knife from its sheath.

Much nodded, jumped to his feet and ran to the camp. I didn't look back to see if Robin and his men had heard Much. At least they would be warned now. As the first man reached me, I was shocked to see the man wasn't a ruffian or an outlaw, but wore chain mail and a Norman helmet. Were these Nottingham soldiers and was Guy among them?

As the soldier moved to cut me down with his sword, I hit him full in the torso with a branch and then slashed out with my knife. I felt some resistance from the knife as I heard fabric ripping and the blade hitting home. He let out a choked gasp and then fell back, staggering to the ground. My hand felt slick with the stickiness of blood when the second soldier charged me.

A long flash of moonlight shone in my eyes as I saw him raise his broad-sword. A sudden anger welled up within me, my hatred of the Normans, all they stood for – and what Guy had done to me. I threw my full weight into the branch and used it as a club. He veered away from the swing as his sword fell and before he could raise it again, my knife dug through his cape into his back. Five more men were charging at me, screaming their war cries in anger and hatred. Desperately, I grabbed my small knife and hurled it at the advancing soldiers. One of them screamed and fell back, but the two at the forefront raised their broad-swords, ready to fall upon me at once. Swords clashed against the shadows and I saw it was Robin and Nasir fighting them.

Soon the other men came and as much as I still felt ill-at-ease around Will, he fought with a fire that bordered on madness. A soldier lifted his sword, determined to strike Friar Tuck in the back, but I swung the stick still clenched in my hand and aimed it at his head. He ducked out of the way and the wood whisked through the empty air. He turned to me, his sword slashing quick and fast in the moonlight. All I could do was dodge out of the way as my knife was no match for parrying a sword.

As I moved backward from the slicing steel, my heel hit upon a rock and I stumbled, falling to the ground. The soldier laughed and in the moonlight I thought I saw a glint of golden hair beneath his helmet. Was it Guy? No! It couldn't be!

He raised his sword for the killing stroke. In that dreadful, still moment I heard some people experience before their death, everything slows down to a frozen, terrifying instant before the end comes. This did not happen with me, but an even more dreadful, sickening despair when you realize the one you loved would be the one who'd kill you.

Just as the blade was ready to fall, he screamed and staggered, a long arrow protruding from his back. All I felt was not triumph or relief but shock as I saw him fall to his knees, still clutching his sword, before he collapsed in death. His helmet rolled off his head and I saw gleaming golden hair obscuring his face. I reached a trembling hand out … knowing how foolish this was if some life still remained within him. But as I rolled him over, I saw his broad forehead, high cheekbones and a thick, blunt nose … it was not Guy.

For a moment I couldn't get back on my feet as I felt my muscles trembling in fatigue and shock. But when I stood, I saw the soldiers still laying into Robin and his men although it looked like the soldiers were quickly losing their advantage.

As the swords clattered and the attackers began to fall, one by one, I felt the battle was won. But then a shadow arose from out of the leafy undergrowth, the steel sword he held gleamed cold and sharp in the moonlight. The soldier drew it back, ready to run Robin through the back while he was distracted in the fight. Frantically, I hurled my arm forward and the long knife left my hand and hissed through the air. The knife vanished into the darkness. I expected my aim had gone awry and when I heard a gasping cry, I feared it was Robin's. But the sword dropped from the shadow's hand and fell to the ground before he could deliver his final blow.

* * *

Will fiercely kicked over the body of a slain Norman soldier lying on the forest floor. 

"They aren't the Sheriff's men," Robin said as studied the uniforms. "They bear the arms of the triple lion and wear red … We've seen these before."

"Aye, the scum working for that bastard King John," Will spat.

"I wonder what mischief the King is up to now," Friar Tuck said. "How odd they'd be here and attack us when he's at war in Wales."

I walked over to one of the dead Norman soldiers. I had never seen much difference in one Norman soldier to the next. They were all enemies to me. But the thought of the king's soldiers coming to Nottingham and trying to kill us – it did seem strange. When I looked up, I caught Robin looking at me and for a moment felt almost shy and turned my eyes away.

"You saved my life," Robin said. "Thank you."

It felt odd just to say "You're welcome." I kept my eyes still turned away from him and said:

"It was the least I could do … and my life was saved as well. That Norman would have killed me. Who shot the arrow?"

"Don't you trouble yourself about that, Little One," said Friar Tuck, leaning on his long bow. "He would have killed me as well if not for you."

I looked up at the friar's kind words and smiled.

"You fight very well. I've never seen a woman fight like that – well except …" Robin paused, sadness briefly dwelling in his eyes before he pushed it away. "Who taught you?"

Again I felt shame rather than pride in my fighting skills. It was not becoming or proper for a woman to fight, especially in battle.

"The Sons of Fenris didn't allow anyone to be weak, including their women. I learned to fight very quickly – I had to."

I turned my eyes down to the forest floor and wished I could just shrink back into the shadows, away from their attention. I felt in that moment now was the time for me to leave Robin and his men, but then I heard a startled squeak and a frightened cry.

"Well look what I found," cried Will, grabbing something in the bushes and hauling up a small, terrified man by his cowl.

"Please don't kill me," the man cried with a timid and small voice. "I wasn't with them!"

"Very unlikely," said Little John in amusement. "You wear the same colors as these men."

"I bet you're the slime who ordered them to attack, didn't ya," said Will, shaking him with relish.

"No! By the Wounds of Christ! I had nothing to do with it," the man whined. "I pleaded with them not to, but they were ordered …"

Suddenly his voice choked off and his eyes widened, as if realizing he'd just said too much.

"Ordered?" Robin turned to the little man. "Just who ordered it? King John perhaps?"

"I cannot say. I'm just a humble man who knows nothing."

"Knows nothing, eh," remarked Little John. "Yet you wear those fancy clothes and come with a full armed guard."

I moved closer and got a better look at the man. Indeed he was not dressed like a soldier. He wore a rich red tunic with the gold embroidery of the triple lions upon his vest. His trousers were not of rough wool or beaten leather, but of soft, expensive linen. The heavy gold chain necklace with a medallion upon it was quickly seized by Will.

"Now you still haven't answered our question," Will hissed. "I've asked you nice, but I'm getting angry and when I get angry …"

A flash of steel glinted in the moonlight as Will held a knife to the little man's throat. The man whimpered and closed his eyes in fear.

"If you talk, you might just live," Robin said, very coolly and with a slight grin. "But if you don't … well it's been a long time since you've had some fun, eh Scarlet?"

"Aye," Will said. "And I'm just itching to make this little piggy squeal."

"All right! Please! Don't hurt me," the little man gasped, his eyes wild like a trapped animal. "My name is James of Newark, emissary to King John. I was to bring a message to Robert de Rainault of Nottingham."

With a trembling hand, James reached into his embroidered vest and removed a small piece of parchment, sealed with the royal emblem in gleaming red wax. Robin quickly took the parchment and with little decorum cracked the seal and read the contents in a small patch of moonlight. As he read, his face became grimmer and suddenly he stopped at one part while he read, shock in his eyes.

"What is it," Much cried.

"Mostly just orders from the King to kill us at all costs – or else. Nothing new really," said Robin, his face still grim.

"And what else," Friar Tuck asked.

"Gisburne, the second part is about Gisburne," Robin said flatly.

"The bloody King is pissed at Gisburne," Will laughed. "'Bout time, the pig. Hope he's in a right dung hole now!"

"Then you have your wish," said Robin, holding the order limply in his hand. "These are also orders – no demands – from the King that Gisburne is to be handed over to the royal guard immediately. He's to be hanged in Newark – as an example to all incompetents who fail to follow his orders."

The men looked at Robin in surprise.

"Because of the grain," asked Little John. "The King can't hang a man because of grain."

"Maybe it is for something different," Robin said. "We all know Gisburne has failed many times. But maybe the grain was the last failure the King was willing to tolerate."

"Hanged," I said, feeling dull and emotionless inside. "And made an example …"

"I imagine he will be killed in front of a crowd, maybe even tortured," Robin sighed. "That would be King John's way."

I gazed at Robin and was surprised to see him looking so downcast. Wasn't Gisburne his mortal enemy? Wouldn't he want to see him dead?

"Please! Will you let me go now," cried James, still trembling with the knife at his throat.

"Not yet," said Robin, turning to him. "Tell me why the King's men attacked us!"

"I – I cannot …" then he squeaked as Will pressed the blade closer to his throat. "They were under orders – to kill you – if they encountered you while passing through Sherwood."

"Very foolish of the King – especially when he had such an important message to deliver to our friend the Sheriff," Robin said, waving the parchment. "And now he never will receive it."

I watched James' frightened and horrified face as Robin dropped the parchment and ground it into the dust beneath his boot.

"Now the question is, what shall we do with you," Robin said. "We might sell you for a nice ransom back to King John."

"Or we can release the little rat," said Will with a smile. "That way we finally can be rid of Gisburne."

Robin gazed at Will a moment and briefly looked at his men, before ordering James to be tied up.

"Patience," Robin said. "Gisburne will soon trouble us no more."


	11. Nottingham

My reflection rippled in the water as I bent over next to the river's edge. Already the pale rose light of dawn glinted upon the river as I washed my face in the icy water. My face was smudged with dirt again because of the fight and my hair was disheveled and tangled. It saddened me to see how quickly I had become a she-wolf again in appearance. Even with my new clothes and my wash back in Wickam, it still had not cleansed me of my past nor erased what I had become.

In dismay, I looked at the dress Alison of Wickam had given me in her kindness. The hem near my left leg had torn during the fight and flecks of red soiled the white gown – the soldiers' blood. I dipped my hand in the water, trying to rub out some of the stains, but many had already set into the fabric and wouldn't leave. The cruel irony was not lost – not when my anger, sadness and exhaustion seemed to mingle into one painful emotion.

"Anne."

It was Robin's voice, but I did not turn to look in his direction.

"We wondered if you had left us," Robin said, crouching next to me on the river's edge. "We were looking for you."

"And why should you? To help you kill Gisburne?"

"Anne, how could you think –"

"How could I not think? You said he will soon trouble you no more. Maybe you won't have the king kill him – so you can kill him yourself!"

I continued to keep my eyes on the persistent blood stains, trying to rub them fiercely out with my thumb.

"It's because I don't want Gisburne to die I've come to you," Robin said.

The admission shocked me and in the silence I turned to the young man who gazed intently at me with his gentle gray eyes.

"You don't want him to die," I said. "I would think his death would be a blessing to you and all your men. Isn't he your enemy?"

"He probably will always be," said Robin, with a regretful sigh. "But it can't be helped and there are some things I can't change … But I do not wish for Gisburne's death, even if he desires mine … I need you to help me save him, Anne."

Shock pierced my heart like a knife. I stared at Robin in disbelief.

"Save him? Why? Who is he to you?"

Robin looked very uncomfortable and turned his eyes away from me.

"Let's say I have my reasons for keeping him alive … But I know you love him … or you once did. He still might be saved, but I fear only Gisburne will believe you. He cannot stay in Nottingham. Whether this messenger is our prisoner or not, one day the king will send even greater forces or he might visit Nottingham himself and order Gisburne's execution. He must leave Nottingham for good if he's to be safe."

I listened intently to Robin's words, yet the logic escaped me.

"If he leaves Nottingham, who's to say he'll not be hunted down by the king … or even the sheriff just to gain the king's favor? This happened once before … Gisburne was not safe anywhere," I said.

"He may not be safe, but he can disappear. I can help with that. But Gisburne must leave Nottingham … and he must come to Sherwood. You can convince him to come to Sherwood, Anne."

I saw the conviction in Robin's eyes and could hear a desperate urgency in his voice – the same urgency I once heard in Guy when he felt his revenge was within reach. I slowly shook my head.

"I'm sorry, Robin. I just don't believe you. You want me to bring him to Sherwood and I know he is your enemy. I won't lead Guy to his death, even if he wronged me."

I stood up, preparing to turn away from him.

"Your inaction dooms him then," Robin said defiantly. "He will stay in Nottingham and he will hang … But if that is your choice."

I heard the grass and leaves rustle as he stood up, preparing to leave. I turned to Robin, furious.

"My choice? Since when have I ever had a choice," I cried.

Robin stopped, his eyes to the ground before he turned his gaze to me.

"You chose once to love Gisburne. It is now your choice whether you now wish to save him."

Robin slung his longbow over his shoulder and walked into the trees, vanishing amongst the shadows.

* * *

The marketplace was overflowing with vendors and buyers haggling for a better price. As I walked through the crowded streets, seeing nothing but unfamiliar faces, I felt like a stranger lost in the chaos and noise of Nottingham. I had never been to a city and the only other village I had been to besides my own was Wickam.

When I first entered Nottingham, the high city gates overwhelmed me with its enormous stones and towering archway. Although I was not questioned as I passed through the gates, my heart beat fast when I saw the Norman guards standing sentry.

Everywhere I went, somewhere in the city, were Norman soldiers and every time I saw them a deep-seated terror gripped me. I expected at any moment I would be recognized, seized and thrown into some dark, cold dungeon. But I passed by them unnoticed and unheeded, and made my way slowly up the high road that led to Nottingham Castle.

It was mid-day by the time I reached the imposing castle gates and this time the sentry guards did take notice of me as I warily approached.

"Well hey, lookee 'ere," laughed one guard. "If it isn't a juicy wench. How much ye worth, eh hussy?"

My fear quickly was replaced by anger.

"I have come to speak to the Sheriff of Nottingham," I said firmly. "I'm not here for you!"

"Eh, not too sure of that," said the other guard, rubbing his filthy fingers across his lips. "Cause if ye want to see the sheriff, ye have to do a bit of convincing."

The guards laughed, their lecherous eyes hungrily staring at me as I stood there. It disgusted me and fired my rage.

"I have news about Robin Hood, surely that would warrant an audience with the Sheriff," I cried.

The guards for a moment looked at each other, before smiling and turning back to me with their lust-filled eyes.

"Aye, who doesn't have news of Robin, eh? And most of 'em are lies and worth fer naught," said the first guard.

"And if it is of some worth and you don't let me pass," I looked up at the towering castle walls. "The Sheriff has long wanted Robin's head, has he not? And if the Sheriff finds out you prevented his capture … I imagine by evening he'll have your head instead!"

The guards looked at each other and some of the confidence and amusement drained from their faces.

"We have no need for such a filthy whore as ye," the first guard spat. "Go an' see the sheriff and I hope he sticks yer head on a pike fer yer bloody lies!"

I didn't tarry, fearing the guards would quickly change their mind, and hurried past the castle gate. This was one of many guards who would stop me before I entered the main hall in Nottingham Castle, but thank God they were not like the filthy swine at the main castle gate. They were either bored, drunk or both, and once I mentioned the name Robin Hood, they quickly let me pass.

In the end, I found myself in the main hall, behind a long line of peasants seeking audience with the Sheriff. I had to content myself to a long, tedious wait ahead while each peasant pled their case to the Sheriff, often with unfavorable results. I instead amused myself with watching the Sheriff, whom I had last seen shackled to a board while the Wolf Warriors laughed as they threw hatchets near his head.

Indeed, the Sheriff didn't seem traumatized by his ill treatment under Gulnar. He slouched in his throne, drinking a goblet of wine and acting as smug as though he was the King of England. Then I turned my attention to the right and I saw him … Guy of Gisburne. No longer did he wear the coarse wolf pelt or the crude, barbaric clothing.

He now wore a blue tunic of wool that draped to his knees and was fastened with a leather belt. His arms were crossed and he looked bored and somewhat disgusted. I wondered if Guy would see me amongst the peasants waiting to be heard by the Sheriff, but he rarely turned his eyes up … in fact he seemed more content to study the floor.

The line moved forward as the pig farmer's issue was resolved, instead of the neighbor who stole the pig being forced to return the stolen property, they both were ordered to give the Sheriff a pig for "the atrocious waste of time of hearing their tedious case." As a weaver was presenting his case of not being able to pay his taxes due to the high cost of wool, I realized I could hear the Sheriff … which wasn't difficult since the small man was often bellowing in anger.

I heard him yell at Gisburne one time during the hearings, "What's the matter with you, man? You're sulking more than usual!" But Gisburne just cast the Sheriff a reproachful glance before turning his eyes again to the floor. Now that I was closer, I realized I saw something else in Guy's eyes and face besides frustration and boredom … it was sadness.

At last the case before me was finishing up: A baker who was being accused of casting a spell on his loaves so they turned "wormy" before they could be eaten … thereby forcing customers to buy more of his bread. The Sheriff ordered the peasants to relinquish all their bread to the Sheriff so he could "see and taste for himself."

"But that will leave us with nothing to eat! We'll starve," cried one villager, a bony man in rags.

"Well you should have thought of that before bothering me with this nonsense, hadn't you," cried the Sheriff.

The Sheriff waved his hand and the guards came and dragged the protesting villagers and the baker out of the hall. My heart raced as I realized I now stood at the head of the line. I looked around at the Norman guards – they were everywhere, all staring at me, and worst of all, a greedy and angry Sheriff was glaring at me with his beady eyes.

"Well? And what do you want, woman," the Sheriff demanded before taking another swig of wine from his goblet.

I wrung my sweaty hands in my shift and gazed back at the Sheriff, my heart racing.

"I – uh – well," I realized in stark terror that all words and thoughts had left me – even my purpose for coming.

"Spit it out," screamed the Sheriff. "Or I'll have you dragged from here as well!"

"Forgive me, my lord," I said, turning my eyes down. "It's about – about Robin Hood."

The Sheriff's anger quickly turned to sly amusement and a malicious grin spread across his lips.

"Robin Hood, eh? And pray, what news of Robin Hood do you have, my dear?"

"That – that he is back in Sherwood, weary from his journey," I said, struggling to keep my voice from trembling. "If you would attack him now, he would be unarmed and helpless."

"Would he, now? And why should I believe you?"

"Because – because I hear you have a reward for catching these outlaws," I said, raising my eyes to the Sheriff. "I have nowhere to go, no one to turn to … The money could help me start a new life."

For the first time, I dared look at Guy during my audience. His eyes turned up from the floor, looking at me in astonishment and disbelief.

"And what else," demanded the Sheriff. "You seem to have taken a sudden interest in my Steward … Is there anything else I should know about?"

"Yes, my lord." Reluctantly I tore my gaze away from Guy. "Robin Hood plans to kill your Steward. I cannot allow that."

The sheriff frowned and he began to study my face as though he was trying to place where he had seen me before. I quickly turned my eyes down to the floor again.

"Interesting. Why such concern over the welfare of my Steward? Perhaps there is a reason for such – affection." The Sheriff turned to Guy, who looked visibly uncomfortable and embarrassed now. "Gisburne, do you know this woman, perchance?"

"My lord I – well I mean," Gisburne stammered.

"Gisburne, I have had quite enough of this," cried the Sheriff. "I paid a hefty sum to the king to spare both our necks and this is how you repay me?!"

"But my lord, it's not what you think …"

"You will throw your wench out of here … and you will capture Robin Hood and his men. If you fail, I could care less if they plan to kill you. It would be a just reward for your incompetence … Is that understood?!"

Guy glared at the Sheriff, open venom in his eyes.

"Perfectly," Guy spat, his anger barely concealed in his dark voice.

Guy stormed from the dais and roughly grabbed my arm with his large hand.

"Come along, then," Guy said matter-of-factly, keeping his eyes away from me in anger and shame.

"Guy, what are you –"

"Anne, wait until we leave the hall," he whispered, gazing suspiciously at the watching court. "Others will hear us."


End file.
